“Often we tell ourselves, ‘Don’t just sit there, do something’. But when we practice awareness we discover the opposite may be more helpful: ‘Don’t just do something, sit there’. We must learn to stop from time to time in order to see clearly. At first, ‘stopping’ may seem like a kind of resistance to modern life. Humankind’s survival depends on our ability to stop rushing.” — Thich Nhat Hahn
For as long as I can remember idleness has felt prickly to me, like the uncomfortable sensations I’d endure from choosing to rest would outweigh any relief I’d be granted from actually doing it. In the moments I try to slow down (and when I really, really need to), I can feel my thoughts darting around in my head like it’s a wasp nest, filled with reminders of all the things I need to do, should do, or could do. I find myself imagining all the ways time could be spent productively. Who defines that, anyway? (*A question that is worth being curious about with any and all ideas we carry as our own*). Rest was never modeled for me growing up—as I’m sure it wasn’t modeled fully or at all to others—and it is certainly not encouraged in our capitalistic, optimization-hungry society. So everything about trying to rest feels foreign, perhaps what’s even more true is that it feels wrong.
When someone that we see is choosing to rest, or more likely being forced to either by a loved one, a workplace, or their own body revolting, “you deserve it” is one of the most unhelpful things to say—yet it’s what rolls off the tongue without question. It’s a comment that sounds like honey but is actually saturated in sticky conditionality. It’s a comment that glues us to this way of needing to always justify, or be justified by our behaviors.
I’m working to unlearn that I need to display a list of qualifications to someone in order to take rest when I need. I’m working to untangle myself from this belief that I need to prove I’ve completed what I’m “supposed to”, that I’ve done enough to take the time—but not too much, of course—to step off to the sidelines and catch my breath. I’m learning that there is simply no convincing myself out of what my body knows to be true, that there are days that it can’t keep pushing. That in this body, we are wobbling to a finish line that is continuing to move further and further away.
I’m learning that it is not always courageous to keep going, that success can also be found in acts of restoration and slow moving. I’m wondering about what delights I may find from adjusting my pace. I’m thinking that maybe, I could stumble across a steadier confidence when I quit outrunning myself.
It is not always courageous to keep going, success can also be found in acts of restoration and slow moving.
I believe that rest is productive, and it also doesn’t need to be. Rest can be a tool to re-charge as a means to increase productivity later, and that doesn’t have to be the only reason I engage in it. I can rest simply because it feels good, because that’s what my mind and body and soul is calling out for, because I am choosing to practice resistance within in a culture that is not conducive to sustainability (*Thinking about what happens when we apply capitalist values to the way we tend to our natural environment, what that’s done to our earth, and how our bodies and souls are a mirrors of this. Thinking about what it means to be more compassionate stewards of the world within and around us*).
It’s imperative to acknowledge the fact that rest in America is a luxury for many, if not most. Rest is a privilege that feels—and often is—so *very* far out of the realm of what’s possible. The truth in that is bitter, the truth in that is real. AND, I think there are ways to practice having better vision to locate where opportunities for small moments of rest are hidden in our daily lives, underneath the muck of demands and bottomless responsibilities. I think there are circumstances in which we stumble upon opportunities to rest unexpectedly and struggle to give ourselves the permission to embrace it. I’ve noticed there is a particular pocket of time in the mornings where I can carve out a few minutes to sip my tea a bit more intentionally. And that makes all the difference in how I show up during the rest of the day.
What I’ve been repeating to myself over and over and over again:
When feeling the urge to explain, to provide evidence to myself or others, I can practice saying to myself instead, “of course I’m feeling tired, it makes sense that I am” and letting that be enough. Slowly alleviating the pressure to (over)explain myself and my needs all the time. To practice tolerating the potential of people judging us (oof).
AND
It is okay to have different definitions of productivity. It’s okay to have different goals. I can cultivate a deep sense of intrinsic success in a life full of slow living and mindful moments. Believe in this to live like this.
Questions I’ve been—and still am—afraid of looking too closely at, but I’m trying:
What messages have I internalized about resting? What do I think it means about me? What do I think about others when they rest?
What feelings and thoughts have I been outrunning that catch up to me when I quit surrounding myself with distractions, when I enter a state of idleness?
When I engage in rest, and is it actually rest? Or is it a form of distraction (ie., doom scrolling)?
What opportunities for rest in my days am I overlooking? Can I just not see them yet, or am I looking past them towards the unlimited list of productive things I can do instead?